


Time Has Come to Make Things Right

by Veldeia



Series: Eden Landing [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Western, Gun Violence, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, IN SPACE!, M/M, Mars, Present Tense, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin Hammer thinks he’s defeated Tony Stark, who is now beaten, bruised and behind bars. What he hasn’t realized is that the police captain Steve Rogers happens to be on Tony’s side. Hammer is going to get what’s coming for him—and it’s not going to be pretty.</p><p>(Part 3 of the Space Western AU! Bingo fill for the prompt “Good Guys Gone Bad”.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Sell My Skin Dearly

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the 3rd installment of my Space Western AU, and will probably make more sense if you’ve read [part 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5849218) (whereas [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5826652) is pure smut and not required reading).
> 
> The story is finished, at 9 chapters / around 17k words, and I'll be posting it one chapter per day from here on.
> 
> As always, the soundtrack to this AU is Knights of Cydonia, by Muse, which is where the title is from. Chapter titles are borrowed from spaghetti westerns!
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful betas, [antigrav_vector](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector) and [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia)! I still have a few things to learn about the intricacies of tenses in English! :)

It’s later than Steve planned on when he finally steps into the saloon. He’s been putting this off, running things over in his head, sitting alone in his room since he called it a day and left Tony to spend his first night in the holding cell.

He’s gone over the details a dozen times, but no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find a hole in Hammer’s evidence. Maybe someone more skilled in such things might, but to Steve’s eyes, the video material and the location data appear seamless, and irrefutably place Tony and his mining bot on Hammer’s land. Without better evidence to show otherwise, the case is as clear as they come.

The fact that there’s no way to play this by the book isn’t the only thing that bothers Steve. He also really, really doesn’t want to go through with it on such short notice, but they don’t have much choice. The long message full of legalese that Steve received this morning from Hammer also included an announcement disguised as a request for Tony to be moved to a more secure, better suited facility in Hellas to await his trial. It does make a lot of sense; the single cell at Eden Landing’s tiny police station is meant for having brawlers cool down for a bit, not for long-term imprisonment. Unfortunately, it also means that tomorrow afternoon, a transport will be showing up with several armed guards to escort Tony away.

They will have to make their move before the prison transport arrives, circumstances be damned. If Tony ends up in a proper prison in the capital, there’s very little they can do.

Steve steps into the saloon, and takes in the scene. It seems like a relatively quiet evening, with maybe ten people around, which suits him fine. A table of four playing cards, a couple of other familiar faces sitting alone or in pairs at the other tables. Steve doesn’t want to stand out, so he walks over to the bar and orders a beer from the barkeep, a well-liked fellow named Luke. With that in hand, he walks straight to where Natasha is sitting, close to the card players.

Natasha Romanova and her partner in crime, Clint Barton, who’s currently deeply engaged in the poker game, are the people Steve is here to meet. Officially, they work at the hydroponic farm supplying the station with oxygen and fresh vegetables. Unofficially, they are the people to go to on Eden Landing if you need anything lost or found. They operate in a gray area where Steve is concerned, not too different from Tony: he’s so far never caught them doing anything criminal, but he’s pretty sure they’re not exactly following every law to the letter, either. He never really thought he’d end up needing their services.

“Night off, captain?” Natasha asks as Steve sits down next to her.

He’s out of uniform, as casual as he ever gets in his jeans and blue dress shirt. “That it is,” he replies, and puts the beer down on the table in front of him.

Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’re terrible at this, you know, Rogers.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says, taken aback.

He can’t deny that he’s really nervous about the whole thing. Of course he is, he’s about to break principles he’s been following for pretty much his entire life. Still, he didn’t think he was quite that transparent.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Natasha says, and lays her hand over Steve’s where it rests on the table. “It’s not that obvious. I’m good at reading people, and I’ve spent time with you before. I’m sure the guys at the next table have no idea there’s anything out of the usual going on. So, do you want to do the inconspicuous small talk first, or go straight to business?”

He had been thinking he’d do the small talk, but now that she’s asking, it feels pointless. Steve leans closer to her. “I need to get someone out of here tomorrow, low profile, no questions asked.”

“That’s easy enough to do. Won’t even cost you a credit,” Natasha promises.

Steve frowns. “Look, I know you’re not a charity organization, just give me your charge. I have money, same as everyone else.”

“Yes, but you have something even more valuable,” Natasha replies, with a sly look. “You have the ability to look the other way. So, we get your hot cargo out of the station, and you’ll give us a free pass the next time we end up needing one.”

Steve would be amused by the choice of words there—hot cargo, indeed—if he didn’t feel so terrible about this whole thing. If he makes such a deal, he’s completely selling himself out. He’s not sure how he’d live with himself after that. He takes a big gulp of his beer—the cheap stuff, made from powder, but at least there’s alcohol in it—and puts it down heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I promise it won’t be anything too awful,” Natasha reassures him. “And in the end, it’ll be your call, when push comes to shove. If it’s something you absolutely can’t ignore, we can renegotiate.”

That, he might be able to live with. Steve sighs, and gives Natasha a nod and a tight-lipped smile. “Fair enough. You have a deal.”

“It’s not that bad, Steve, honestly,” Natasha says and pats his hand. “Now, I’m going to need a few more details about the job, and then I’m going to get you something nicer than that to drink.”

The details are quickly covered: time, location and a rough idea of the destination. Natasha doesn’t know who is going to pick Tony up, but if she says she’ll arrange it, Steve trusts her to get it done.

Natasha pays a quick visit to the bar, and soon enough, Steve finds himself holding a glass of whiskey that is, as far as he can tell, authentic Earth stuff. It must have cost a fortune. Steve didn’t even know Luke had such luxury items in his selection.

“I may have done the barkeep a favor or two as well,” Natasha offers as an explanation, smelling her own drink appreciatively.

Steve isn’t much of a drinker, but he can appreciate the good stuff when it comes his way, and he has to admit this is exquisite. He savors it while it lasts, the taste of the planet he hasn’t set foot on in his adult life. As soon as his glass is empty, he makes his excuses. Tomorrow is going to be an important day, and he has no intention of making this an overly long night.

He’s almost at the door when Doc Banner catches him, with a light hand on his bicep and a softly spoken, “Captain? A word with you, if I may.”

Steve nods, and they take a few steps to the side, placing them at a quiet spot by the wall.

Bruce catches Steve’s eyes with a serious, unwavering look. “I just wanted to say, look, he may be fit enough to be in a cell instead of a hospital bed, but that doesn’t mean he’s fine. Whatever you do, keep that in mind.”

Steve can’t help bristling at that. How the hell can everyone instantly tell he’s up to something? Sure, Bruce knows Steve as well as Natasha does, which is better than most other people on the station, but this is getting a little ridiculous. Besides, for crying out loud, there is no need for Bruce to tell Steve that he needs to look after Tony! He’s all too aware of how badly injured Tony is. If it were up to him, he would’ve waited several more days before making a move, but time’s a luxury they don’t have.

Steve does his best to tamp down his anger. Bruce is only thinking about what’s best for Tony, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, because it’s what Steve is doing, too. “I know that, Doc, all right?” he tells Bruce, managing to keep his voice civil. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bruce gives him the slightest of smirks. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I must’ve been mistaken. Good night, officer.”

“Night, Doc,” Steve returns, and manages to slip out of the saloon without further interruptions.


	2. Run, Man, Run

Tony's fine. Not a hundred percent, for sure, but fine. A lot better than when he woke up this morning, because the new painkillers Bruce handed him a couple of hours ago really are something.

The odd thing is, the Doc had visited Tony to do the scheduled checkup and given him the drugs _before_ Steve explained the details of the escape plan. So, Bruce must be in on it, too. Of course, he'd never explicitly said anything to that account, being almost overly cautious—although the cell is one of the few rooms on the entire station that have surveillance, the records are deleted daily unless Steve tells Elsie to keep them. If he doesn’t, the station AI will just forget whatever has happened.

Bruce hadn’t been very talkative, overall. Not that he ever is. Tony has occasionally ended up in deep scientific conversations with him, since he is one of the brightest minds on the station, and as such, good company. His style and approach to things are entirely opposite to Tony, much more cautious and reserved. Nevertheless, Bruce is one of the few people here that Tony might actually consider his friends. 

The last thing Bruce had done had been to press the blister pack with five pills into Tony's palm. “These should be more effective than what you've been on so far. Military stuff, something I'm not even supposed to have. One per day is the absolute maximum dose. Don't exceed that. And try not to do anything stupid.”

With that, Bruce had left, and as soon as Steve had seen him out, he had his little talk with Tony.

Tony should probably be more worried about the whole thing, but really, he's mainly just excited. Might be the drugs. Then again, might be just him. It's been a dull couple of days, stuck in Bruce's observation bed and then in jail. This is his first ever prison break, that is kind of awesome.

He checks the time. Almost there. Ten minutes left.

He's currently lying in the bunk, and for the first time since he had that unfortunate meeting with Hammer's android and a piece of monorail track, nothing hurts at all. He can't even feel the bruises. The broken ribs are there, pulling a little when he breathes, as is a difficult to name feeling of something being not quite right beneath them, where Bruce did some kind of a funky non-invasive cauterization thing to his spleen. He can easily ignore both. He's pretty sure he could run if he had to, but he does hope it won't come to that.

He watches the seconds tick by, going through the details in his head. It's hardly a complicated plan, at least not up to the point where he gets to his ship. What happens then will depend on a lot of things. He'll just need to wing it from there.

The numbers hit 11:45:00. Tony gets up from the bunk. It’s showtime!

He walks over to the computer screen, which usually offers a very limited interface to prisoners—entertainment, station news and the like—and feeds in the access code Steve gave him. From there, it's easy for him to figure out how to shut down Elsie's alarms, and to open the jail door. This is the kind of thing he excels at, after all, though he doesn't do much of it nowadays. He spends an extra half a minute making sure he has the station layout memorized before hitting the “door open” symbol next to his cell.

The door slides open with barely a sound, and Tony walks out, a triumphant grin on his lips.

Now comes the tricky part: he needs to make his way to the landing bay in exactly 12.5 minutes without being seen. He checks the corridor outside Steve's office. No one there. Walk across, open the maintenance hatch, and crawl into the man-sized tunnel. Praise be to the wasteful engineers of old who chose to make these things big enough for people. Even though the walls are covered with cables and pipes, there’s plenty of room for him.

The station map clear in his head, Tony makes his way through the tunnel on all fours. Where it ends, he pops into another corridor, and walks along that for a dozen meters, which is when the sound of footsteps just around the corner makes him stop in his tracks. There are a couple of ladder rungs leading to a hatch in the ceiling not far from him. He scrambles up, worms his way into a vent that is a lot smaller than the earlier tunnel, closes the hatch behind him—and finds himself face to face with a tiny maintenance bot going about its business.

Tony freezes, hoping the bot isn’t a particularly chatty sort. It’s a basic design, one he’s seen before. It beeps at him softly and waves its feelers. Feeling bad for having to do it, he reaches for the switch and turns the bot off. That’s definitely going to register at the maintenance operations center. Hopefully they’re not too efficient and won’t be showing up instantly to check what’s going on.

Tony wasn’t planning on using the vents, but he does remember them running all the way to the landing bay. Now that he’s here anyway, why not make the best of that. The diameter of this passage is smaller than that of the maintenance tunnel he used earlier, but at least the walls are smooth metal. He manages to wiggle past the inert bot, and keeps going, crawling on his stomach, because there’s not quite enough room for hands and knees.

Several times, he stops to listen to the sounds of people passing below, holding his breath, worried they’ve caught the sound of him dragging himself along the metal floor. There’s no hint of that, and no sign of maintenance workers in the vents, either.

The landing bay is a high hall. Where the passage Tony’s in reaches the bay, it turns into a vertical chimney that he has no intention of attempting. He turns around, and locates the nearest hatch. It opens into another empty corridor. He has to climb down and sneak the last couple of dozen meters in the open, constantly watching over his shoulder to make sure there’s no one around. Luckily, noon is a quiet time of the day in the landing bay, and Tony manages to slip in unnoticed, as far as he can tell.

He crouches behind the first ship he can see to catch his breath.

So far so good. He’s still not hurting at all, which is obviously great, but also a little unsettling. He’s not sure all that crawling would’ve been physically possible for him this morning. He can only imagine how hard he’s going to crash when the drugs wear off. Probably better to try and take it easy from now on.

After checking again to make sure there’s no one nearby, he makes his way to pad number 5, which is where his contact is supposed to be waiting for him. There’s definitely someone there: next to the gleaming ship parked on the pad stands a huge, not at all bad-looking man with a long mane of blond hair, dressed in a ridiculously ornate surface suit—lots of silvery details, some of them actually imitating chainmail. All that’s missing is a cape.

Tony clears his throat to catch the man’s attention.

“Halt! Who goes there?” the man calls out in a booming voice that’s about the worst Tony could imagine for anything clandestine.

“The Widow sent me,” Tony replies with the designated words, still staying hidden behind a wall support beam.

“Aha! Her and the Hawk!” the man returns, confirming he’s the person Tony’s looking for.

Tony steps into his view, and the man leaps to his side and quickly ushers him into the awaiting ship. It’s a fine one, too; going by the design and how massive the engines seem, Tony is willing to bet it’s orbit-capable, which you don’t often see out here.

“Welcome to the _Mjølner_! I am Thor, and any friend of Natasha and Clint’s is also a friend of mine,” Tony’s designated driver introduces himself.

The Norse-sounding names plus the imposing ship make things click into place in Tony’s mind. “You’re Asgardian,” he notes, surprised. The colony on Phobos is well known for its Nordic roots, and infamous for its alcohol consumption. All in all, it doesn’t sound like a bad place to be, despite the eccentric reputation Asgardians have amongst the surface-dwellers, which is only accentuated by them rarely showing their faces down here.

“Aye, that I am! And you are Tony Stark,” Thor says, in that terribly loud voice, making Tony cringe although they’re behind closed doors.

“Right now, I’m just an item you need to move from one location to the other,” Tony tells him.

Thor guffaws at that, his laughter as loud as every other sound he's made so far. “Indeed, indeed! Do tell me, where is it that I shall deliver this package?”

“Cydonia Labyrinthus, around grid coordinates minus twelve and forty-two.” That is where Tony left his ship—or rather, was forced to leave it when he got the unasked-for ride back with Hammer and his guards. He very much hopes it will still be there. No reason why it shouldn't be; it's not a commonly visited area, and it's not right next to Hammer's lands.

Thor sits down in the pilot's chair to feed in the course. Tony's amused to see that the interface is actually in Asgardian, the one and only non-Earth dialect of Norwegian. The _Mjølner_ is clearly not meant to be a one-person craft, but for the time being, Thor is operating it alone. Not waiting for an invitation, Tony plops down in one of the five other chairs, glad to be off his feet.

“It shall take us no longer than twenty-five minutes,” Thor announces. That’s five minutes less than Tony would’ve thought. They taxi to the exit and take off so smoothly, it's difficult to tell they're even moving. Despite all the work Tony's put into his ship, it's nowhere near as impressive as this.

Tony would love to learn all the technical details of Thor's ship, but he decides to keep his mouth shut, for once. The less interaction with his escape driver, the better, to keep from getting more people too involved in this mess. It's bad enough that Thor recognized him off the bat.

At the station behind them, either Elsie or Steve must have called the alarm by now, putting the place in lockdown. Steve will be coming after him soon.

Tony rests a hand over the worst of his bruises—still not painful, only just perceptible—and gazes at the barren, red landscape whizzing past the windows as they speed towards their target.


	3. Kill or Be Killed

Five minutes past the time when Tony is supposed to be out of the station, Steve hits the alarm and makes a general announcement about the escaped prisoner, telling everyone to remain where they are and temporarily closing off all traffic. After wasting another ten minutes on the pretense of making sure Tony isn’t hiding somewhere on the station, Steve goes after him.

He’s decided it’s better to do this more or less openly. Of course he will go after the escaped convict, and naturally he will take his own ship. The _Shield of Ares_ has a grandiose name and a color scheme to match it, with the white stars and the red stripes, but for all that, it is just a simple, lightweight two-seater made of recycled military parts, speedy but not particularly tough.

Steve doesn’t fly often these days—he doesn’t want to waste valuable fuel on joyrides, and his work rarely gives him a reason to go out. He wasn’t a pilot in the war, but he did go through the basic training, and he’s always enjoyed flying. This jaunt out of the station would have been a welcome break to his routines, if not for the nagging concern of how easily things could go wrong.

By the time Steve reaches the coordinates Tony told him earlier, whoever gave Tony the ride there is already long gone, the only sign of their presence the disturbed regolith next to Tony’s ship. Dressed in his police-issue surface suit—another bit of repurposed military gear—Steve crosses the distance from his ship to Tony’s.

He knocks on the door, and gets a strong and entirely inappropriate feeling of déjà vu. Every single time he’s visited the _Golden Avenger_ has lead to him getting laid. He knows very little about Tony’s daily life on the ship. He assumes it’s where Tony sleeps and eats when he’s out on one of his digs, but they haven’t really discussed that. That’s how things have been between them. It might be changing, now, but it still throws him off because of the associations that this door usually comes with. It’s definitely not what he should be thinking about right now.

Tony opens the airlock to let him in, and as soon as Steve has his helmet off, Tony’s lips are pressed against Steve’s in a hot, rough kiss, his goatee scratching Steve’s jaw. Exactly the sort of scene Steve’s come to expect when stepping into this ship, and not helping at all.

This time, though, instead of starting to pull off Steve’s clothes, Tony backs away, his hands still on Steve’s arms, and gives him a cheeky smirk. “You need to keep a better eye on your prisoners, sheriff.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Steve returns. “Everything okay?”

“So far so good.”

Steve looks Tony up from head to toe, and at least he seems to be in one piece. He’s actually standing straight instead of that slouched posture brought on by all the bruising, looking more lively than he has in the last few days. If not for the nasty black-and-blue mark on his right cheek, it’d be difficult to guess he’s injured. He’s wearing the familiar old red surface suit, so clearly Natasha took care of that, just as Steve asked, handing it to whoever Tony’s driver was. For all Steve knows, it may have been Natasha herself—he’s perfectly happy being in the dark about it.

“Have you figured out what to do next?” Steve asks. They didn’t discuss that in any detail back on the station.

“Yes, but it’s less straightforward than I was hoping for,” Tony says with a slight grimace, and lets go of Steve’s arms. “We’ll need to go out there and get U.”

“Huh? Get me?” Steve says, confused.

“Not you-you. My bot, U,” Tony explains, as if Steve should’ve gotten that straight away, though Steve doesn’t remember hearing the names of Tony’s bots before. “The one that was with me when I got caught, and has the logs that I need to prove my innocence. I was expecting him to have returned home by now, that’s what he’s supposed to do after a day has passed without contact with me. Clearly he’s glitching. He’s been having issues with his solar panels. Might be that again.”

“Are we talking about a bot that’s stranded right next to Hammer’s territory?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. Can’t be helped, I’ve tried to contact U, but I’m not getting a response. Really no way around it. I need to grab my tools and go fix him. On foot, because it’s only a couple of klicks away, and I really don’t want to risk moving my ship any closer.”

“Well, you’re not going out there alone,” Steve says resolutely.

“Good. I could use someone to carry my gear,” Tony says, taking Steve by surprise—he was half expecting Tony to refuse any help. “Might not want to come dressed in a recognizable police suit, though. I don’t think my spare will fit you, we’ll have to settle for a new coat of paint instead.”

Less than an hour later, they’re on their way, walking through the rocky valleys of Cydonia Labyrinthus. Steve’s suit has a hastily done new, matte black paint job, with the color chosen on the grounds that was the only one Tony happened to have available. Someone familiar with Confederate Police suits and looking at it closely could probably still recognize the design, but from a distance, it’s a black suit with no identifying details. Steve is carrying a fairly heavy backpack, Tony a much lighter one, which is an arrangement Steve approves of. He’s surprised at how little Tony’s injuries seem to be slowing him down; they’re proceeding at a brisk march, making good distance.

Steve can spot the mining bot from afar. He knew to expect that it’d be big, but its size still takes him by surprise: the massive, almost tank-like bot that nearly blocks the low valley in front of them must be at least two meters high and five long. It has caterpillar tracks and several manipulator arms, some of them ending in hand-like claws, others in menacing drills.

“Ah, there you are!” Tony’s voice breaks the radio silence they’ve kept up for the last ten minutes or so.

Tony picks up his pace, dashing towards the bot in leaps and bounds. Steve has no trouble keeping up with him despite his heavier pack, and they reach the bot abreast. From up close, it’s even more impressive, making the contrast all the more amusing when Tony walks up to it and strokes its dented, pockmarked surface as if it were a large animal of some sort.

“Sorry I abandoned you out here, boy,” Tony tells the bot. “I came as soon as I could. Now, let’s see what’s wrong with you.”

Tony starts walking slowly around the bot, with Steve following right behind him.

It’s Steve’s military training that saves them: all it takes is the glint of a blaster bolt at the corner of his vision, and he reacts instantly, wrapping an arm around Tony’s midriff and pulling him back.

They land in a heap on the ground behind the corner of the bot’s caterpillar tracks, and the bolt smacks harmlessly to the bit of ground where Tony stood half a second ago.

“Shit!” Tony swears. “Should’ve expected that! Hammer must’ve set a watch. Of course they’d be worried I’d try to get the logs from U, one way or the other.”

He scampers away from Steve, careful to stay safely behind the bot, and pulls his blaster from his belt. Steve grabs his gun, too—standard issue like his suit, only designed to stun, not kill. He’s pretty sure Tony’s weapon doesn’t have similar safety features, nor do those of whoever’s attacking them.

“Stay down, I’ll take a look,” Steve says, and doesn’t wait for an answer. He crawls to the corner to take a quick peek around it. He’s instantly met with another blast, which glances the bot’s side right where his head was.

“Goddamn it, if they damage U, I _will_ kill them,” Tony says darkly.

“We’ll need to incapacitate them anyway if we want to get anything done,” Steve says, with a sinking feeling.

Steve shouldn’t be involved in this. He can see the marked border of Hammer’s land around five meters away from them. The shooters are clearly on Hammer’s territory, and that makes the situation legally tricky: if Hammer’s guards have reason to suspect an intrusion to private lands, they are allowed to defend the perimeter. And legal conundrums aside, Steve’s certainly not supposed to be shooting at people with no questions asked—but what choice does he have?

“I’m within my rights here! I’m not going to cross the line! Stop shooting or we will return fire!” Tony shouts on an open radio channel.

There’s no reply that Steve can hear, just another bolt that hits the ground close to Steve’s feet. That settles it clearly enough.

Now that he has a better idea of where the enemy is, he peeks around the corner again, and shoots a bolt of his own in their general direction. He’s not sure if he hits anything, but at least that sends the message that they’re not defenseless and making idle threats.

“Can you see how many they are? How far?” Tony asks.

“I’m sure it’s only one or two,” Steve says. He hasn’t really seen them yet, but he’d expect them to be spread out and shooting from multiple directions if there were more. “Maybe a hundred meters away, up on the left hand side of the valley.”

“Okay, give me that pack and keep them occupied. I have an idea,” Tony says. He grabs the backpack Steve's been carrying, and with no further explanation, climbs up U's side.

Steve almost groans aloud out of frustration. This isn't the way to do it. He needs more info on what Tony's plan is—but Tony's already halfway up on the back of the bot, and there's a major risk their attackers will notice and target him, despite the cover offered by the manipulator arms. Steve puts his stun gun around the corner and sends a whole volley of blasts towards the enemy.

God, it feels so much like he's back on the battlefield, he can almost touch Bucky's shoulder where he's crouched next to Steve—

Steve does his best to push the distracting memories to the background, and focuses on keeping up a continuous hail of stun blasts at the attackers, doing his best to draw their attention away from Tony. When he risks a glance to the side, he sees Tony hard at work on one of U's limbs, doing who knows what.

The clock on the corner of Steve's helmet HUD shows minutes tick by. He's starting to worry the assailants will soon do something to break this stalemate, in the worst case calling in reinforcements.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts.

When Steve turns to look, several things happen in quick succession: Tony points the robotic appendage he was working on at their attackers—but it now looks more like a catapult than an arm, and Tony uses it to fling a projectile of some kind towards the enemy—and then a bolt of white-hot pain slams into Steve's right thigh, his leg folds under his weight, and the words “SUIT BREACH” and “DECOMPRESSION ALERT” flash on his HUD in big red letters.


	4. Take a Hard Ride

Tony has no time to cheer and gloat, or even to wait and see if his aim was true. He takes a risky leap down U's side, and lands next to Steve just as the rumble of the explosives going off shakes the ground.

Yeah, good luck dodging that, HammerGoons. The payload was enough to bring down the side of the valley where the bastards were hiding. He hopes it's killed them. They had it coming for hurting his guy and his bot.

He kneels next to Steve. Their suits aren't linked, so he has no access to Steve's data, but he heard the pained grunt, the gut-wrenching hiss and the high-pitched alarm through the radio. He knows well enough what those amount to. While he's scanning Steve's suit to spot the breach, his hand pulls the emergency fix patch out of a pocket in a quick reflexive move.

There's a palm-sized hole in Steve's right thigh, blood-red, its edges singed, going through suit and thermal layer and skin—fuck, that looks painful. Sort of hurts worse than any hits Tony's taken himself, because it's his fault, damn it, Steve shouldn't even be out here—but Tony can't allow himself to be distracted by that. He slaps the emergency patch over the injury, smoothing its edges carefully to make sure they're firmly sealed.

He grabs Steve's biceps to bring him to sit up against U. “Steve? Steve, you with me? Talk to me,” he calls out urgently. Steve's visor is dimmed so Tony can't even see his face.

A couple of loud, gasping breaths are the first reply he gets, and he's never been as glad to hear such a desperate sound.

“Steve?” Tony repeats.

“Yeah,” Steve grunts. “Still here. That was close. Thank you.”

Hearing that, Tony can breathe again, himself. Speaking of which, “How's your air supply?” he asks Steve.

“About an hour left. Should be enough for getting back,” Steve reports. He's clearly struggling to keep his voice steady, and no wonder. They need to do something about that blaster burn, but they can't do that outdoors, and they can't leave without what they came for. Tony needs to fix U first.

Tony crawls to the bot's corner and peeks around it. No one shoots at him. As he expected, it looks like there's been a proper landslide where his improvised shell landed, rocks piled haphazardly in a new depression in the left hand wall of the long, low valley. No sign of the attackers—he assumes they're buried in the rubble. Serves them right.

“Just stay there and take it easy, okay?” he tells Steve.

“Can do,” Steve simply replies, not moving at all.

With full access to all of U's maintenance panels, Tony is quickly able to sort out the bot. It's a lot simpler than what he feared: a sensor issue that made the bot think he’s out of power when in fact he wasn't. Tony closes the panel, hits the restart sequence, and U hums to life, his lights turning on and each limb moving in turn as he goes through the basic diagnostics routine. As soon as that’s done, Tony has U synchronize his logs with Friday’s, to make sure he has a backup of the data he needs.

U isn't built for transporting people; the cargo compartment has no lights and no cushioning of any sort, and is currently half full of unprocessed ore. Fortunately there's some room for sitting on top of the bot. Even if it'll make them more exposed in case more of Hammer's lackeys show up, it's a better alternative than trying to walk. It won't be any faster, but far more comfortable: Tony's not sure Steve could walk if he wanted to, and while Tony knows he could, himself, it’s probably not a bad idea to avoid the exertion.

He climbs down to give Steve his hand, and with a little help, Steve makes it to the bit between the two front manipulators. Tony sets U on a course back towards his ship.

They make it halfway uneventfully. Then, a bolt whizzes past their heads, and they have to press close to U's surface for cover. Hating that he needs to do it, Tony has U bend its manipulators protectively between them and whoever’s shooting at them. It will inevitably damage the bot, but it’s a fact that Tony’s way better at fixing U than fixing himself or Steve.

“This has to be the slowest chase scene in all of history,” Tony notes.

It’s almost comical. They're barely moving faster than walking speed. Tony has one hand on Steve's back, his blaster in the other. Every now and then, he shoots in the general direction of the enemies. He doesn't think he's hitting a thing, because he can't really see them. Blasts keep flying over and past them, and a few slam into U's side, making the bot shake on his tracks.

All of a sudden, the blasts stop entirely.

Surprised, Tony looks around, and realizes they've come within sight of his ship—and Steve's extremely recognizable Confederate Police craft is parked right next to it. Hah. That must've spooked them. An unprovoked attack on a fugitive is one thing. Openly going against an officer of the law, now, even dimwits working for Hammer understand that's a bad idea.

“This is where we have to part ways,” Tony tells U once they’ve clambered off the bot’s back, patting his side, which is now sporting patches of blackened metal from numerous hits. Good thing Tony’s bots are a sturdy breed. It still pains Tony to see the damage.

U blinks his lights and droops his arms mournfully. Tony really doesn’t want to leave U on his own, but that’s the way it has to be—the poor thing is simply too slow. No way he can keep up with Tony’s ship, and they can’t afford the time to escort him all the way, not when it’s more than likely that they’re being pursued. He hopes Hammer’s minions will leave poor U alone when Tony’s no longer with him.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he tells U. “But I know you can manage. Make your way home, and we’ll meet there, okay?”

With one last twinkle, U starts his tracks again and moves away.

Tony and Steve cover the few meters to Tony’s ship, Steve leaning quite heavily on Tony’s shoulder. Once they’re through the airlock, Tony guides Steve over to the bunk. They take off their helmets, and Tony’s so relieved to see Steve’s face again, pinched as it looks, that he gets the strongest urge to just grab Steve in a hug and hold him. Later, he tells himself, and resists that urge, because there are more pressing things at hand.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks instead.

Steve gives him a mirthless smile. “Not the worst hit I’ve taken. Does burn like a nova, though.”

Tony digs the blister pack Bruce gave him from one of his pockets, and holds it out to Steve. “These seem pretty effective for that sort of thing.”

Steve grabs the medication, and Tony’s about to turn to the washbasin for water when Steve’s sudden shocked, wide-eyed look makes him stop in his tracks.

“What the hell, Tony—AresForce combat drugs?” Steve exclaims disbelievingly. “That’s what you’ve been on?”

Tony spreads his arms. It’s not like he’s picked them himself. “Courtesy of the good doctor Banner. Honestly, I’m not sure I would’ve gotten this far without them. Or even out of the station.”

“I swore I wouldn’t touch these again after the war ended,” Steve says darkly, staring at the package resting on his palm like it’s going to bite him.

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you maybe overreacting a little? They’re just painkillers.”

“Are they, though?” Steve asks, his eyes narrowed. “That’s not the only flavor they come in. You haven’t been feeling unusually murderous or hyperactive lately, have you?”

Has he? It’s not easy to say what counts as unusual for the situation. “I’m definitely keyed up, and I do want to kill Hammer,” Tony declares. “But I‘d say that’s not unreasonable given the circumstances. Besides, I don’t think Bruce would give me something that’d turn me into a berserker with ADHD.”

“I guess not. He’s usually pretty sensible,” Steve agrees, his expression smoothing a little. “I’m still going to have a word or two with him once we’re out of this goddamn mess.”

“I have some regular meds, too, if you’d rather take something else, but I’m not sure that’d even make a dent, seeing what that burn looked like,” Tony says. “And frankly, I’d prefer having us both as close to fighting fit as possible, even if it requires dubious military drugs.”

He fills an enamel mug with water, and offers it to Steve, who gives a resigned sigh and a shrug, and accepts it to swallow one of the capsules.

“Think you’re okay to wait a little longer before we deal with the burn?” Tony asks. “I could try to do something about it here, but I’ve got more first-aid supplies at home.”

“What? You can’t seriously suggest we go back right now! Especially not in your ship,” Steve blurts out, sounding absolutely dumbfounded.

Tony grins at his confusion. “Who said anything about Eden Landing? You do know I don’t even have quarters there, don’t you? You really think I spend all my days and nights in this tiny tin can?” He knocks at the fuselage next to him. “I think it’s about time we went to my place, for a change.”


	5. The Dirty Outlaws

It takes all of five minutes for the pain of the blaster burn to fade away entirely. It's a relief. It's also all too familiar, to the point of making Steve feel sick.

In the war, the Martians were badly outnumbered, and the victory that gained the planet its independence was really only possible because of two things: their superior knowledge of the environment, and having some of the most brilliant minds in biomedical science on their side. Since biological weapons are a terrible idea in a setting where air and water are very limited resources, they turned those skills inwards instead, leading to many experimental projects, which Steve had very up-close and personal experience with. The most widely known result were the combat drugs that had been used by the soldiers through most of the war.

To Steve’s relief, the drugs Tony has turn out to have a small α-symbol printed on the capsules, confirming them as painkiller only. Still, though they’re the least dangerous class, even the alphas were risky in extreme wartime circumstances. Steve knows that several soldiers died because the drugs allowed them to keep fighting, ignoring severe wounds until they became fatal.

Desperate times, desperate measures. Both in the war and today.

Steve has suspected for a while that Bruce's past includes an involvement in military medicine, and him having the combat drugs seems to support that suspicion. Steve's furious at Bruce for giving Tony the pills without even telling him. Bruce knows as well as any other person on the planet that Steve is familiar with these things. Still, mad as he is about it, he has to admit he can see why Bruce did it. He _was_ wondering how Tony could be moving around so painlessly.

Steve gets up from the bed and crosses the floor to the cockpit, where Tony's sitting in the pilot's chair, navigating them on a tricky low trajectory, almost skimming the hills below them here and there. For an Earther, Tony sure seems like a skilled pilot.

“Should you be on your feet?” Tony asks without taking his eyes off the displays.

“Probably not. Neither should you,” Steve replies pragmatically.

“I'm not,” Tony notes. “I'm sitting down. And here we are, just about to land. You better hold on to something.”

Steve grabs the back of Tony's chair and holds on tight, trying not to think of the other times he's done the same in a very different setting.

The ship shakes and rattles as Tony brings it down steeply to a level stretch of land Steve wouldn't have thought big enough to pass for a runway. They're surrounded by the countless hills of Cydonia Colles, and there's absolutely no sign of habitation that Steve can see.

They taxi directly towards a large boulder that's in front of a much larger mound, and just as Steve is starting to wonder what the heck Tony is up to, the boulder splits in half, the halves sliding aside to reveal a gaping hole in the side of the hill easily big enough for the ship.

They roll through the entrance into a hangar, lights switching on automatically when they're in. It seems like a natural cave to Steve, an unevenly shaped chamber with rough rocky walls. Next to the right-hand wall stands a bot that look much like U, though with a slightly different set of limbs. There are plenty of other mechanical structures in the hall that Steve can’t even begin to name, some of them looking half-finished.

Tony casts Steve a glance and a smirk over his shoulder. “Welcome to my humble abode, Captain! Helmet on. I can't afford to maintain an atmosphere in the garage.”

An airlock in the back wall of the cavernous chamber gives them access to a smaller, clearly man-made room. The walls and ceiling are level and coated in light gray paint, and Steve's first impression is that every square meter of floor is covered with bits and pieces of electronic equipment. It looks like a mad scientist's lair. On closer inspection, Steve spies a kitchenette in one corner, and by one of the walls rests a bed that seems bigger and more comfortable than the bunk on Tony's ship.

Steve is flabbergasted, and feels foolish. He should've guessed Tony has a proper place to stay somewhere, but really, he had no idea.

“It's not exactly a five-star apartment,” Tony says, pulling off his helmet and getting out of his suit in a few practiced moves, “But for what it's worth, it's a nice hole to hide in.”

Steve starts undressing, too. He doesn't even remember the emergency fix patch and the injury underneath until he tries to push down the lower half, and feels the tug where the burn on his thigh has stuck to the suit material. He huffs. Goddamn combat drugs.

Tony's giving him a sympathetic grimace. “I think you'd better keep your pants on for now, honey buns,” he says. “But you could haul your ass to bed. I'll be joining you in no time.”

Steve will never cease to be amazed at Tony's knack for the most blatant innuendoes at the most inappropriate moments. He refrains from rolling his eyes, and heads towards the bed, holding the suit's lower half up by its waist. He sits down on the springy mattress to wait.

As promised, Tony's soon back by his side, carrying an armful of medical supplies that he dumps on the bed next to Steve.

“All right, let's get you out of your clothes,” Tony announces.

Steve doesn't really need any help with that: he takes hold of his suit’s right leg, and pulls it away from the injury as carefully as he can. He's inevitably breaking off the scab that has begun to form. Tony takes off Steve's boots, and the suit is soon entirely off, a discarded heap on the floor.

Tony puts on a pair of sterile gloves. “I'd tell you this is going to sting, but I guess it won't.”

“You could stick a knife in there and all I'd feel would be the pressure,” Steve confirms.

His hands more gentle than during any of their intimate encounters so far, Tony peels away and cuts off the singed edges of Steve's thermal long johns. In places, the fabric is melted and stuck to the skin, and Tony needs to use tweezers to pry it off. When he's finished with that, he washes the burn to clear off all the dust that has gotten into it, and goes on to smear an antiseptic, cooling salve on it.

Steve watches Tony work in silent awe. Looking at the injury doesn’t feel nice, but Steve loves the way Tony’s steady hands and slender fingers move, effective and tender at the same time, giving the impression that he's quite used to this sort of thing. Steve assumes it's mostly from experience that Tony's gained treating injuries he’s sustained himself.

Tony finishes by placing a dressing over the burn and taping it meticulously in place. Once that's done, he takes off the gloves and drops them on the floor.

“There. That's the best I can do with what I've got,” Tony says, sounding apologetic. “Back on Earth they'd just regrow the tissue. Take twenty minutes and you'd be good as new.”

Steve takes hold of Tony's forearms and pulls him close to peck a kiss on his cheek. “You did great, Tony. I wouldn’t swap this for Earth in a million years. Don't worry about me. I heal faster than baseline anyway.”

Tony's eyebrows rise. “Well, well. I'm not the only one with a few secrets, am I? How come?”

“I volunteered for an experiment during the war,” Steve simply says. That part of his past is not public knowledge, and he has no intention of going into details about that particular chapter of his life now.

Tony seems to take that in stride. “Oh? Well, I did always think you were preternaturally pretty. Not to mention the superhuman refractory period,” he says, leering. He puts his hands on Steve's shoulders, and runs them down his chest to his waist, brushing his nipples on the way.

As much as Steve would love to go with it and maybe finally do the deed on Tony's bed instead of so many improvised locations, this really isn't the time. He catches Tony's roaming hands before they can go any further.

Steve's not concerned about his own injury—he knows it'll be fully healed in under a week. He's also more than used to dealing with the fallout of the AresForce drugs, while Tony is not. The alphas' effects last from five to eight hours, depending on individual factors—or a little less, if you happen to have Steve's metabolism. After that, you hit the wall. It’s not quite as bad if you've remembered to take care of yourself.

“First things first,” Steve tells Tony firmly. “Do you have any food here? I haven't had a bite since breakfast. I'm starving.”

“Yeah, sure. It's all canned or freeze-dried or dehydrated, but yeah, I can do food,” Tony says, maybe a little miffed. He gets up. “Stay put, this won't take long.”

After a couple of minutes spent in the kitchenette, Tony returns with bottled water and two bowls of something that smells enticingly spicy. Steve wasn't only talking about food on the pretense of getting Tony to eat; he really is very hungry, and happily wolfs down the soya curry.

The silence hangs heavily on them as they eat, Tony sitting next to Steve on the bed, clearly deep in thought. Steve recognizes that once they've dealt with the immediate practical concerns, they will have to figure out their next move, and he isn't sure they have many good options available.

“That was actually very nice,” Steve declares, scraping off the last drops of sauce from his bowl.

“It's not half bad,” Tony agrees. “Not quite how I imagined our first dinner date, but I'll take it.”

“So, you've been envisioning us on dinner dates, then?” Steve asks curiously.

Tony gives him a sideways glance. “Honest answer? No. Tell you the truth, I've just been expecting the whole affair to blow up in my face. Things tend to do that near me.”

“Well, this thing certainly blew up in _our_ faces quite spectacularly,” Steve says ruefully.

“You said it,” Tony says. He rubs tiredly at the bruise on his cheek. “I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this mess.”

“Tony! Don't even start.” Steve puts a steadying hand on Tony’s shoulder, and realizes Tony’s trembling ever so slightly; Steve has a good guess for what might’ve brought that on. “I made that call myself. I knew perfectly well what I was getting into.”

Tony shrugs off Steve’s hand, a look of discomfort passing over his face as he moves his shoulders. “Yeah, right,” he says, like he's about to start arguing. Steve isn't going to let him.

“Anyway, we can sort this out,” Steve says quickly. “We go back to Eden Landing on my ship, tell everyone I caught you, and then we can use the real evidence to—”

Tony's shaking his head. “Steve, that's never going to work. Not anymore. You're too obviously involved in this. Besides, I just chucked explosives onto Hammer's land. No way we can defend that, even if it was because his guards were shooting at us.”

Steve can't deny that. They've strayed too far off the straight and narrow path to easily return to it. Has he made an outlaw of himself? He did know, at the time, what he was getting himself into, but he still thought, deep down, that they could somehow make it through this without complicating things further. Get that proof, and use that to make it all right again. If they can’t—what’s going to become of his life? How can he still consider himself a man of the law after this?

“Do you have a better suggestion, then?” Steve asks, trying to cover his rising anxiety.

“I do. You're not going to like it, though,” Tony says, his shoulders hunched but his eyes fierce. “Because I want to go knock on Hammer's door and talk this through with him. In the universal language of blasters.”

“No! Absolutely not!” Steve cries out.

“See?” Tony says, winces, and puts a hand to his side. “Ow, that doesn't feel so good.”

Steve hasn’t failed to notice the color slowly draining off Tony’s face during the conversation. It's pretty plain to see the drugs are starting to wear off. Immediate worry over Tony taking over his concerns for the future, Steve puts a hand on Tony's shoulder again. This time, Tony doesn’t resist, but leans against him.

“Do you have any regular painkillers at hand?” Steve asks. “Could help to soothe the impact.”

“Ah, right, yes. Good idea,” Tony says. He sits up straight to rummage through the medical supplies strewn on the bed next to him until he comes up with a pill bottle. He washes down two with the mouthful of water left over from their meal.

“Lie down,” Steve tells Tony in a no-nonsense tone. “I’ll clean up and join you,” he motions at the mess of first-aid things, discarded clothes, scraps of singed fabric and empty food bowls scattered around the bed.

“Oh, watch out, sheriff, you know how much I like it when you get bossy,” Tony says, not quite managing a suggestive tone with the hurt lacing his voice, his arms crossed over his midsection. He follows Steve’s order, lying down on the bed on his good side, curled up into himself.

Steve quickly clears away most of the scattered items, peels off his thermal underwear, and carefully settles on the bed behind Tony. Tony lets out a sound that could be either pain or pleasure; unfortunately, it’s probably the former. Steve reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed to pull it over them, and wraps an arm around Tony, who’s shaking in earnest now.

“It should get better in a bit,” Steve tells Tony soothingly, nuzzling the helmet-flattened, sweat-soaked hair on the back of his head. “Always feels worse at first when you’ve gotten used to not feeling any of it and it comes back with a vengeance. Assuming you haven’t injured yourself worse. If you think you might have, you need to let me know, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathes, and grabs Steve’s forearm tightly, his nails digging into Steve’s skin. “I hope I haven’t. Can’t say for sure. This fucking hurts.”

“I know,” Steve sighs. He wants to hug Tony tighter, but refrains, worried it’ll make him feel worse. He remembers how he grabbed Tony around the waist earlier to pull him away from that first blaster shot. That can’t have helped Tony’s injuries any.

“We didn’t even figure out what to do, yet,” Tony says, in a soft, desperate voice.

“It can wait,” Steve says. “For now, all you need to do is rest.”


	6. Compañeros

This isn’t something they do. They’re spooning, for pity’s sake, and on Tony’s bed, of all the possible places on the planet.

It would be extremely nice if Tony weren’t hurting like a massive cargo freighter has crash-landed on him.

They don’t do spooning. They don’t do touchy-feely. What they do is rough, quick and dirty, with no strings attached. Tony has never allowed himself to even think about turning this thing with Steve into something more serious. He’s had too many relationships go horribly wrong, all those lovers and friends now left behind on Earth. If Steve had ever suggested something deeper and more romantic, Tony would’ve been surprised, flattered, horribly tempted, and he would probably have turned it down, because Steve deserves better. Steve is everything Tony isn’t: a good, honest, decent man. An upstanding citizen; a hero, even. 

Yet here they are, looking very much like an actual couple.

The last thing Tony wants is to drag Steve to the dirt with himself. At the same time, he can’t help thinking that they should’ve done this ages ago, when things weren’t as complicated—and when he wasn’t in so much pain, because that really is the catch here. He’s not being cuddled because it’s nice. He’s being cuddled because Steve is such a decent guy, he can’t stand watching Tony suffer without doing something about it, so he’s put an arm around Tony and pulled a blanket over him, and is currently the one thing keeping Tony from falling apart entirely.

Tony feels every bit as bad as he did when he first got beaten up, every square centimeter of bruised skin and muscle a constant gnawing ache. It’s the worst over his left ribs, of course, the ones that are actually broken. He seriously hopes he hasn’t done any new damage to them, let alone deeper.

He’s so tired, too. It can’t be even six o’clock yet, but the day has lasted for ages, and he’s exhausted. What he really wants is just to drift off.

He focuses on Steve, because the parts that Steve is touching feel a little better than the rest, that lovely warmth of Steve’s broad chest against his back, Steve’s fingers gently combing through his hair.

Eventually, he fades to a semi-awake state where he’s only just aware of Steve’s soft breaths on the back of his neck, and then he’s out.

When Tony wakes up, Steve is still there, breathing deep and slow, fast asleep. Tony’s not feeling quite so battered anymore. Obviously Steve wasn’t lying about the worst of it passing soon.

Tony would love to just stay like this for the next, well, maybe year or so, but now that he can think clearly again, he feels even more strongly that he can’t rest before they’ve at least come up with some kind of a plan of action. Really, he’s not sure he can rest before the whole situation has reached some kind of a resolution.

He shifts slightly on the bed, and Steve responds to that almost instantly, his arm around Tony tightening a little.

“Tony?” Steve asks sleepily. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, by a mile,” Tony confirms. The aches haven’t gone anywhere, not like they did with the combat drugs, but they’re more like this morning, dulled by the regular painkillers he took, less like the instant aftermath of the beating. “Thanks,” he adds.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Steve says, moving his hand to stroke Tony’s upper arm.

“Seriously? There’s so much I need to thank you for, Steve,” Tony says, feeling like he should be looking Steve in the eye, but not sure if could handle that steady blue gaze. “I’m not sure there’s enough gratitude or apologies in the world to cover what you’d deserve. I’m sor—”

“Hey, hey, we talked about this already,” Steve says almost angrily, and draws away from Tony, sitting up on the bed. “Forget about the apologies. No need for any of that. The thing we need is to figure out how to deal with Hammer.”

Tony sits up, too, his side against Steve’s, unwilling to let go of that lovely warmth. He could definitely get used to this touchy-feely couple thing. Steve doesn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, he places an arm around Tony’s waist.

“I already told you how I want to deal with him,” Tony reminds him.

“Yes, and I already said that’s not something we can do,” Steve replies firmly.

“No, but actually, it is. Just hear me out, okay?” Tony insists, and takes hold of Steve’s hand where it rests on his hip, to really catch Steve’s full attention.

“All right. Convince me,” Steve says skeptically.

“I will! See, the thing is, I’m not actually planning on assassinating dear old Justin. I’d love nothing more than that, but honestly, that wouldn’t solve anything. It’s not the sort of thing people will just ignore. The thing is, Justin isn’t the bravest guy around—never was, not even back on Earth, when we were younger—and he has a very good sense of self-preservation.”

“I think I may see where this is going,” Steve says, and is that actual approval in his voice?

“So, it should be enough to storm his castle, to catch him off balance, and to rough him up a little. To make it blatantly obvious that we could kill him if we wanted to, but for practical reasons, offer him an alternative: he can drop the charges, and we’ll let him live. No charges means no trouble for us. No need to hop through legal hoops. Everyone goes on with their lives. If anyone asks about what happened, well, it’s between us and Hammer, and no one else’s business. We’ll make it abundantly clear to him that if he so much as squeaks about the whole thing, he’s done for.”

Steve’s hold tightens around Tony, and Tony glances at Steve’s face to see that he’s looking very thoughtful, brow creased in a deep frown. “I’ll be damned, but that does make sense, and it just might work.”

“Told you it’s a good plan,” Tony says smugly.

“There are only about a dozen practical problems in it,” Steve adds. “I’ve visited Hammer’s place a few times. It really is a castle, and he has a big security team. Probably has to do with that sense of self-preservation you mentioned. I may be AresForce’s most famous infantryman, and you may hold an impressive arsenal of tech and weaponry, but there’s still only two of us.”

“Yeah, that’s the part I haven’t figured out yet,” Tony admits. “Maybe we can find a backdoor, slip in through most of his defenses. I’m confident I can silence any alarms he’s set up, but the guards will still be an issue.”

“Of course, things would be different if there were more of us,” Steve says slowly, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying himself.

Now it’s Tony’s turn to cry out in horror. “No! Steve, that is _not_ an option. We’re not involving more people in this. There’s already one person too many involved in it.”

“I think I could easily convince Clint and Natasha to join in. From what I’ve gathered, they’re both pretty handy in a gunfight,” Steve says more determinedly.

Tony runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. This is his mess. Granted, it started with an almost entirely unprovoked attack from Hammer, but Tony was deliberately poking around close to his lands. He doesn’t like Justin Hammer. Finding something valuable that Hammer had missed, right by his border, would’ve made Tony’s day. His only mistake was that he never expected Hammer to take such direct action against him.

It’s his mess; he needs to deal with it himself. “I can’t have any more people injured on my account,” he says.

“We can’t go through with that plan without a few extra hands. Besides, it’d be their choice, just like it’s mine to be here. They wouldn’t be doing it out of some obligation to you, but in exchange for a favor from me.” Steve’s voice is steely now, compelling. Tony can imagine how that would be the kind of tone to convince troops. It’s definitely working on Tony.

“They might say no,” Tony tries.

“Then we’ll ask someone else. I don’t think they will, though. Having the local lawkeeper in their pocket is going to be a very tempting offer,” Steve says, and almost manages to make it sound like he doesn’t care.

“You’d sell yourself out for me?” Tony says, well and truly shocked.

“I already did,” Steve admits. “How do you think I arranged your ride out of the station? This would just be extending the deal.”

Right. This is the first time Steve mentions how he did it, and of course, Tony should’ve guessed. Damn it. That doesn’t exactly make him feel better, but Steve is right. This isn’t a two-man gig. Even with four, it won’t be easy. Hammer’s guards will definitely have the upper hand, but maybe, with the element of surprise on their side, they can pull it off.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Tony says, “But all right. You ask them. If they refuse, we’ll have to figure out something else.”

“They’re not the only people I know. I do have wartime acquaintances who aren’t police officers, and probably wouldn’t need much convincing,” Steve says. “But that’d take more time, since none of them live close by.”

“Yeah, and that would be a problem,” Tony declares. “Because I don’t want to wait. Whatever it takes, I want this whole damn train wreck cleaned up before dawn.”


	7. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

In the end, they are six, filling the six seats of the gleaming spaceship: Steve and Tony, Natasha and Clint, Bruce, and the owner of the ship, an Asgardian called Thor, every bit as impressive as his vessel.

Recruiting Natasha and Clint turned out to be even easier than Steve had thought. Clint, who took the call, said that they didn't even want to talk about payment. “Hammer has it coming, if you ask me,” Clint said. “We're not exactly on good terms with him either, and we like you. The few dealings we've had with Stark, he's never let us down. If you're willing to risk your neck for him, that's the best recommendation he could have. I know Nat will agree with me on this.”

Having Bruce join them was Natasha's idea, because they might need a medic. It's on the condition that the Doc stay on the ship, for reasons he doesn't want to expand on. Steve is fine with that, and understands it perfectly, as another person who carries his share of nightmares from the war.

Thor is an entirely unexpected but welcome addition to the team, suggested by Clint. Steve was surprised to learn an Asgardian had given Tony the ride out of the station. They very rarely get involved in anything that goes on on the surface. Clint remarked something about a lovely scientist from a nearby station being the reason behind the odd behavior.

It's not Steve's commandos, but it's not a bad crew at all. They've got a nicely complementary skill set, between them. Natasha and Steve are best at close combat, while Clint specializes in longer range. They have Bruce as their backup and medic, and Tony will handle any technical obstacles they may run into—and lob explosives at things if they need that. Thor is a wild card since none of them have seen him in a fight and the weapons he carries are of unfamiliar design, but Steve's sure they’ll be nothing short of spectacular.

They don't meet any resistance at the line of territory markers at Hammer's border. They're in the small hours, and it's unlikely there's more than a patrol or two guarding the sizable area. It'll take the guards time to show up after the proximity sensors have gone off, and by that time, the _Mjølner_ will already have landed right at the front gates.

They're not going to be subtle about this, not when the whole point is to intimidate Hammer. Aside from the guards he might have on reserve, there are no reinforcements he can call in—the first person to contact in case of a surprise aggression would be Steve, who's obviously not going to help. This isn't a skirmish he's going to mediate. He's picked a side, for better or for worse.

Unsurprisingly, they find the front gates of the high rampart surrounding Hammer's bunker-like mansion heavily guarded, eight guns pointed at them, ranging from standard personal blasters to the two heavy turrets mounted on the wall.

“Let's play nice and offer him the chance to make this easy,” Steve says. “Thor, give him a call. Tony, get to work.”

They've decided it's best that the one who tries to open up a line of communication is someone Hammer isn't already familiar with. They're not really expecting to achieve anything, but giving a warning is the honorable thing to do.

With the camera only pointed at him, Thor hails Hammer on a common channel. At the same time, Tony gets busy with the specialized computer he's holding in his lap, doing what he can to hack into Hammer's systems so he can disable any electronic safeguards and open locked doors.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” comes Hammer's disgruntled reply, with no video feed attached. He's probably in bed, like most people would be at this hour.

“Aye! 'Tis the time of reckoning, Justin Hammer,” Thor booms in his deep voice, the tone and the words sending a chill down Steve's spine. “I would have words with you. Allow me and my friends to enter, and no harm will come to your men or your house.”

“What? Is this some kind of a prank? Go away, leave me alone,” Hammer replies nervously.

“That we will not. We will have words with you, whether you want it or not,” Thor declares. “If you decline our polite offer, you can only blame yourself for the consequences.”

“You're threatening to attack me in my own home? You know what? You're welcome to try. You're going to find out it's not that easy,” Hammer replies, his voice gaining some confidence towards the end. He abruptly cuts off the link.

“Well, that went exactly as I expected,” Clint comments.

“The enemy is targeting us,” Thor warns.

“Tony? How're we looking on bypassing those security systems?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, getting there,” Tony replies, his fingers flying on the keys, his eyes nailed to the screen.

A second later, Tony's head snaps up as the ship sways with an impact.

“Ah, shit, give me half a minute!” Tony exclaims, and turns back to his work.

On the large screen in front of them, Steve can see Hammer's guards have spread out in a fan, and they're also shooting at the ship, though the hits don't seem to be doing anything—it's the big, automated turrets they need to worry about.

“Let me deal with these crooks,” Thor says. Before Steve has time to reply, the Asgardian hits a button on the console, and unleashes a blinding flash of light, like lighting that leaves Steve momentarily blinded. When he can see again, all the guards have fallen to the ground, unmoving.

“Did you just kill them all?” Natasha asks. Steve's not quite sure whether she sounds impressed or shocked.

“I would not do such a thing!” Thor replies, offended. “They are merely stunned, and will remain so for half an hour.”

“I’m done!” Tony announces, looking up again and lifting his hands from his keyboard.

The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop: all the guards are unconscious, the turrets have stopped firing, and for a few beats, everyone is just waiting.

Steve, who is unofficially but obviously in command of this operation, breaks the silence. “What did you do, exactly?” he asks Tony. “Took down the rampart defenses?”

“A little more than that,” Tony says smugly. “I’ve pretty much taken down all his defenses. We can just walk in, all doors are unlocked. Except for Hammer’s bedroom. The first thing I did was to deadlock that door. Good luck trying to get out, Justin.”

“You could do all that from here?” Clint says incredulously.

“Well, I wasn’t the head of R&D for Earth’s biggest tech company for nothing,” Tony says. “It was almost too easy, really. Hammer’s using his own software. I wrote better code at age five.”

“Let’s cut the chatter,” Steve says, maybe coming through more stern than he meant to. “It’s time for us to move on. You all know the plan. Remember, non-lethal force only!”

He stands up, and the others follow his lead, heading for the ship’s airlock.

Steve is still wearing the black-painted police suit, with the hole in the thigh where he took a hit properly fixed and reinforced. Coincidentally, his suit looks almost identical to the ones Natasha and Clint have, which Steve easily recognizes as military, though all identifying markers have been removed or painted over. It’s hardly unusual: half of everything on Mars is repurposed AresForce tech. Tony still has his reliable ruby-red suit, while Thor’s ornate Asgardian one stands out amongst them. It looks like it’s going to be very clumsy in battle, but from what Steve has seen of Thor, he’s figured out it’s better not to comment on that.

Bruce, who is staying behind, has a green suit of a design Steve doesn’t recognize, but which also looks distinctly military-like. That doesn’t surprise Steve. He wonders again what, exactly, Bruce’s story might be, but asking about these things isn’t something you do. What Steve did talk about with Bruce, before they got here, were the AresForce drugs. Steve had to blow off some steam, because he wasn’t in the least all right with the whole thing; Bruce took it with an amazingly calm face, and made the whole thing sound so rational that Steve couldn’t really blame him. Bruce had wanted to give Tony the best shot at escaping, and that had definitely done it. He had also trusted Steve to keep Tony from overdoing it, which had been a realistic expectation.

As it is, both Steve and Tony are on combat drugs again: Bruce agreed that the waiting period between doses had been long enough, and that it wouldn’t be too taxing for Tony. Steve sees it as a necessary evil. They’d be in worse danger going into this fight less than fully functional.

They step out of the airlock to an eerily still scene. The perimeter wall looms ahead of them, and in front of it lies a semi-circle of prone figures, still exactly where they fell after Thor unleashed his Asgardian stun weapon on them.

Tony rushes ahead, to get to work on the door, and doesn’t see when one of the figures suddenly gets up—that shouldn’t even be possible, it’s only been minutes, and Thor promised they’d be out for half an hour!

Steve leaps forwards and tackles the enemy, who gets up again with lightning-fast reflexes, and pushes Steve back with irresistible force, sending him flying.

Steve takes in his opponent’s suit design: it has the same HammerSpace colors as the other guards, but it’s lacking the regular life support systems entirely. That explains why Thor’s stun blast failed on this one. Steve’s not fighting a human, but an android—and considering how expensive they are to hire, most likely it’s very same one who beat Tony up.

His anger rising, Steve bounces back to his feet and runs towards his opponent, going at it, kicking and punching, not holding back at all. Most people would have no chance in hand-to-hand combat against an android, but Steve isn’t most people. Still, it’s not an easy fight, no matter how much Steve’s fury is driving him. All his moves are returned in equal or stronger force, and he’s starting to realize he might not be able to win this one, when the android suddenly shudders, goes stock still, and falls face-down to the ground.

Tony’s standing behind it, barely a few meters away, blaster raised. Steve glances at the ground, and sees a big, smoking hole in the android’s back, sparks glinting inside it.

“I’m all for equal rights for all kinds of sentient beings,” Tony declares through the radio. “Would’ve done the same if it had been a human instead.”

Under any other circumstances, Steve would have a problem with Tony having shot his opponent point-blank in the back. Now, though, he’s perfectly willing to turn a blind eye to it.

They proceed through the rampart to the small stretch of land separating it from the building. They meet no resistance, but although Tony has assured them that all the doors are unlocked, the front airlock door refuses to open. Both Thor and Steve take turns at it while Tony pokes at the computer terminal in the wall by its side.

“It’s not locked,” Tony comments. “Which means it must be physically blocked somehow, from the other side. I can deal with that. Fall back to the wall.”

Everyone else backs away. Tony moves in to fasten an explosive device of some kind to the door, then retreats from the door to join the others.

Five seconds later, the discharge sends a tremor through the ground, and the airlock door buckles inwards.

“You’re a handy guy to have around, Stark,” Natasha says appreciatively.

They move to the door in formation, Steve and Natasha first, then Thor and Tony, with Clint at the back. Steve is able to pull the outer door off its hinges. Behind it, there are broken and bent pieces of metal, the remains of whatever was blocking it. The inner airlock door is still closed, but it has also taken a fair bit of damage, and it opens easily, with air rushing past them, the building’s atmosphere escaping to the outdoors.

A volley of blasts greets them. They drop to the ground.

Steve scans the entrance room in front of them. It’s a fairly big space, and in the middle of it stands a battle droid firing at them. It’s about Steve’s height, but a non-humanoid design, basically an assault cannon standing on two feet.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony groans.

“Aim for the legs,” Steve commands. It’s always been a common weakness in the droids he’s seen during the war.

Everyone follows his orders, sending a barrage of return fire, low enough to almost glance the floor, a good few shots hitting the droid’s feet. It wavers.

One projectile—which almost looks like an arrow, must be from Clint—goes higher than the rest, strikes the top of the droid instead, and detonates. The droid falls down, twitching weakly.

“Stark’s not the only one who knows a few party tricks,” Clint quips.

They stand up again and advance cautiously to the entrance room.


	8. Vengeance Is a Dish Served Cold

As private apartments on Mars go, Hammer’s mansion is as big as they come, which means it’s not big at all, making the outer defenses seem disproportionate. It’s extremely expensive to maintain a habitat in the middle of the Martian wastelands. The building is split into two wings, the living quarters on the left, the official company side of things on the right. It was easy enough for Tony to figure out the layout, putting together what he found in the computer system and the descriptions he’d heard from Clint, Natasha and Steve who have visited the place before.

“The door to the left,” Tony tells the others as they walk through the entrance hall, past the smoking remains of the pathetic battle droid, everyone on high alert in case of more resistance.

The attack comes from the one direction they’re not guarding as carefully: from behind.

Clint cries out, the sound instantly followed by a crash when he hits the ground.

Tony turns to see a figure in a HammerSpace suit pointing a gun at them, and instantly recognizes the triple-damned android—why won’t it just stay dead? Tony was convinced he’d already taken it down for good with that close-range hit, but clearly it has some self-repair capabilities on top of its other charming characteristics.

While everyone else opens fire at the android, Natasha ducks low and makes a beeline for Clint, to make sure he’s alright.

A green figure bursts in through the mangled airlock and tackles the android.

Tony stops firing. That can only be Bruce, who isn’t even supposed to be out here, and hasn’t said a peep on the radio. He must’ve seen the android get up and—whoa!

Bruce bashes the android’s helmet to pieces against the ground, and as the others watch in astounded silence, he grabs the android’s head and rips it clean off its shoulders, sparks flying.

Yeah, that should make sure it doesn’t get up again.

“Holy fuck,” Clint swears, confirming he’s still conscious. “Is that the Doc?”

“Bruce? Doc Banner? Come in,” Steve calls out.

The only reply they get is an utterly non-human snarl. Bruce gets up and faces them in an aggressive forward-leaning crouch.

Whatever the hell this is, it’s probably why Bruce wanted to stay behind on the ship, Tony muses. He has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but he remembers Steve’s earlier comment about being experimented on by the military. This has to be something similar.

Bruce isn’t making a move against them, but he’s not replying their hails in any intelligible words either.

“Clint, what’s your status?” Steve asks.

“Took a major blow to the shoulder. It’s patched now, but my aim’s going to be shit,” Clint replies unhappily.

Bruce takes a step towards them, still making no sign of having actually recognized anyone.

Natasha stands up and steps towards Bruce, almost like an animal trainer approaching some feral creature. “It’s fine, Bruce. We’re all safe now. Stand down,” she says in a soothing voice.

Bruce seems to hesitate, his stance relaxing, and Natasha steps even closer. “That’s it. It’s okay. You can let go.”

Bruce lands on his knees, and bends forwards to put his hands on the ground, too. Natasha crouches to place a hand on his back. Clint moves over to stand by Bruce’s side, too.

“It’s one of the earlier military experiments,” Natasha explains, keeping her tone level. “They never found a way to counter it, so any time he gets too angry—“

“I just—lose it, entirely. I’m so sorry about that,” Bruce says, his voice ragged, almost breaking. “I saw the android head for the building. I had to do something. I put you all in danger. I can’t control it. I could’ve hurt you.”

“But you didn’t, you saved my sorry ass instead,” Clint says, and helps Bruce back to his feet. “Come on, I think the two of us should get back to the ship. I’m not going to be much use in a fight now. The rest of you keep going.”

“Yes, I really shouldn’t be here,” Bruce agrees.

“Go on,” Steve encourages them. “We’ve probably dealt with the heaviest defenses already.”

Bruce and Clint turn around and head out of the building while Tony, Steve, Natasha and Thor continue towards the living area on the left. They step through a simple door to an empty corridor, its air venting to the entrance room.

“Which way now, Tony?” Steve asks. He’s leading the way, Natasha next to him, with Tony and Thor abreast behind them. The space they’re in is just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

Tony brings up the layout on his HUD again. “Straight ahead to the end of the corridor, that should lead to Hammer’s private quarters.”

This corridor is empty and quiet, no one in their way. The door at the end is a secondary airlock, keeping Hammer’s personal space doubly secured, a luxury not offered to the area reserved for his guards which they’ve now passed. There’s just enough room for the four of them inside the small airlock.

The inner door opens to another corridor, this one with a breathable atmosphere—and four guards with guns aimed at them. Steve, Natasha, Tony and Thor raise their blasters in response.

For maybe fifteen seconds, it’s a standoff, the two quartets just staring at one another. That’s as long as Tony manages to keep his mouth shut.

“Come on. You think you hold a chance against us?” he tells the guards. This is already getting old. Besides, he has no grudge against guards who’re only working to earn a living, as long as they don’t start beating him senseless without a good reason. “You’ve seen what happened to your friends. Hammer’s hardly worth getting injured over. Drop your guns and we’ll let you go.”

One of the guards actually lets his hand fall. The one next to him nudges him in the side, and he points it at Steve again.

Well, they asked for it.

Steve and Natasha flash into action, not shooting, but going at the enemies in a flurry of agile, acrobatic moves. Tony can only watch in awe. He hasn’t seen anyone move so smoothly in a surface suit before, and somehow the two have complementing styles—is Natasha military-trained, too? An enhanced soldier, even?

Tony and Thor keep their weapons trained on the guards, but in the end, they have no need to use them. It would’ve been difficult to shoot without harming their friends anyway, in such a limited space, and it’s never a bad thing to keep the blasting to a minimum while indoors.

“Where then?” Steve asks, with the four guards in a heap at his feet.

“Next door to the right is his bedroom. I’ll need to open the deadlock first,” Tony replies, and walks past Steve to the door, to punch the release code he’s set to the keypad.

He wants to be the first in, to see Hammer’s face. The bastard must be shitting bricks by now—Tony made sure that though Hammer was left with absolutely zero control over his defenses, he could still see all the security camera feeds.

Tony pulls off his helmet. He’ll meet Hammer eye-to-eye. Steve does the same, and steps closer to stand by Tony’s side as the door starts to open.

Natasha and Thor take positions at both sides of the door. They’ll keep watch while Steve and Tony have their talk with Hammer.

The door slides aside to reveal a nervous-looking Hammer standing a few meters in front of them, pointing a blaster in their general direction with a shaky hand.

“Put that down before you shoot yourself in the foot,” Tony tells him.

Hammer’s hand moves, turning the muzzle of his blaster to point at Tony’s face. “I don’t think so, Tony. I know how to use this.”

Steve covers the distance to Hammer faster than the man can react and snatches the blaster from his hand. It fires once, the shot going wide and landing harmlessly on an armchair by the wall.

Hammer stares at Steve with huge, shocked eyes, seeing his face for the first time—Steve’s been wearing an unrecognizable suit, and clearly Hammer had no idea the captain was in on this operation.

“How about that, Justin,” Tony says smugly. “Weren’t expecting the sheriff to join this party?”

“You can’t be here!” Hammer stutters, waggling a finger at Steve. “You’re a police officer—this is an illegal attack on private premises! You’ll be up to your eyeballs in trouble—“

Tony steps closer and slams the butt of his blaster into Hammer’s face. He aims deliberately for the right cheek, where he still sports the big, ugly bruise from Hammer’s attack.

“We’ll be doing the talking,” Tony declares. “And you’re the one who’s in trouble.”

“Look, guys, okay, you do the talking, but maybe we could do it in a civilized manner? We’re all reasonable people here,” Hammer says, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “You and I are, anyway, captain,” he corrects, sending a pleading look in Steve’s direction.

Steve takes even Tony by surprise, and pushes him aside to land a boot on Hammer’s ribs—obviously going for the spot where Tony carries the worst of his injuries. The force of his kick sends Hammer hurtling to the back wall. He slumps to the floor.

Tony and Steve walk over to Hammer, who gets up shakily, leaning against the wall in a defensive crouch, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I stopped being reasonable when you started throwing false accusations and beating up people who’ve actually done nothing wrong,” Steve announces coldly.

“And I’m being incredibly civilized and reasonable,” Tony adds. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Hammer grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but we are. That’s the beauty of it,” Tony says, flashing his widest grin at Hammer. “See, there’s one really simple thing you can do to make sure you’ll continue your sorry existence after we leave this room.”

“Like I’m going to believe you’d just walk away,” Hammer says.

“The difference between men like you and men like us is,” Steve puts in, “That we actually keep our word. I’d listen very carefully if I were you.”

Tony feels a twinge of pride at Steve talking about _us_ like that.

“All you need to do is to drop the charges,” Tony tells Hammer. “Simple as that. Admit you’ve made a mistake, and that I never broke a single law. The charges go away, we go away, everyone goes on with their lives.”

“Of course, you’ll also forget about everything that happened today,” Steve adds. “Lick your wounds, clean the mess, and never mention a word of this to anyone. Because if you do, we’ll know.”

“And the next time we show up at your doorstep with our friends, we’re not going to let you off this easy, because really, I’d love nothing more than having a reason to kill you,” Tony finishes, brandishing his blaster at Hammer.

Hammer raises his hands submissively. “Okay, okay! You got me. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you ask, if you promise to leave me alone!” he says, almost begging.

“As long as you play nice, we will,” Steve reassures him, putting a hand on Tony’s forearm to point the blaster down.

Hammer stands up a little straighter, still leaning on the wall behind him. “Will you leave now?”

“Not before you hold your end of the bargain. You’re going to walk over there,” Tony says, nodding at the nearby desk, “Write that message and send it. _Then_ , if you behave yourself, we might leave.”

Hammer makes his way to the desk on wobbly feet, Steve and Tony right at his heel. It takes a good fifteen minutes before he manages to put together a coherent text that Steve and Tony approve of. Tony can’t really blame him for being slow—writing such a thing with the two of them watching behind his back, hands on their blasters, can’t be easy. Not that Tony feels sorry in the least. He’ll use every chance he gets to make Hammer feel uncomfortable.

“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Tony asks mockingly, and pats Hammer forcefully on the shoulder, making him jump in his chair. “Now, send it.”

Without comment, Hammer punches the send-icon, and there it goes: the one all-important note that will make Tony a free man again.

“ _Now_ will you go?” Hammer moans. “It’s barely five in the morning! It’ll be hours before anyone will even read that.”

“What do you think, sheriff? Should we hang around until he gets an answer?” Tony asks, smirking at Steve.

“I don’t think I could stand his company for that long without blasting his brains out, deals be damned,” Steve replies, his returning smile a very dangerous-looking one.

“You’re probably right. You usually are,” Tony says, and crouches closer to Hammer, to talk right into his ear. “Don’t think we won’t be keeping an eye on you, Justin. I’ve got so many backdoors to your computer system, it’ll take you years to find them all.”

“You think you’re so clever, but I’ll get back at you, sooner or later!” Hammer snarls.

“Good luck with that,” Steve says. “Anything you try, keep in mind you’ll be facing more than just Tony.”

“Pleasure doing business with you as always, Mr. Hammer,” Tony declares sardonically, and heads out of the room.

Natasha and Thor are waiting at the doorway. The four of them walk back through the empty mansion to the awaiting ship without opposition. There aren’t any guards around that Tony can see—they must’ve regained consciousness and slunk away to deal with their injuries.

Back on the _Mjølner_ , they meet Bruce, who looks no worse for wear, and Clint, whose injury Bruce has seen to. Both respond to the news of the operation’s success with wide smiles.

Thor takes his place at the helm, and they leave Hammer’s territory behind, their course set for Eden Landing.

The rising sun colors the landscape around them in the most vivid tones of red and copper. Tony reaches to take hold of Steve’s hand, and feels more content than he thought possible.


	9. Heroes of the West

Tonight, it’s only the six of them plus Luke the barkeep at the saloon. It’s not great for business, but they’re paying extra, because they have every reason to celebrate properly, and they need the privacy.

The day has been a leisurely one after they got back home. Steve is officially on sick leave due to the blaster burn. It wouldn’t really be necessary—he could manage his regular, light daily duties despite the injury—but after a day and a night like this, he thinks he’s earned it, and so has Tony. They’ve spent most of the day dozing, recovering from another post-combat drug crash and catching up on the sleep they lost the previous night, making arrangements for the attack. So, they’ve been in bed for hours on end, without anything more exciting than sleep happening, and it has been nice, just cuddling, enjoying the company. Surprisingly enough, Tony seems to have liked it too. Though truth be told, Tony’s been so tired that Steve doubts he would’ve been up to anything else.

All that rest definitely helped; Steve’s as refreshed as he would be after a good night of sleep, and Tony’s back to being his usual lively self, all quick wit and charm as he chats with the others.

Steve feels pleasantly warm all the way through, and not because of the beer he’s been sipping. It’s the pricey stuff this time, from the sole Martian brewery. It does taste nicer than the made-from-powder sort. Clint is holding a pint similar to Steve’s, while Bruce hasn’t touched anything stronger than tea all evening. Natasha has again opted for the Earth whiskey, which Tony has in his glass as well. Thor tasted some of the beer and some of the whiskey, and declared both of them too bland to his tastes, producing a hip flask of Asgardian alcohol instead. The all took a sip, and to Steve, it tasted more like some kind of cleaning fluid than anything meant for human consumption.

They’ve spent the whole evening together, most of it seated around a single round table, and Steve doesn’t think he’s felt so at home at any point in the near-decade he’s spent on Eden Landing. It’s also the first time he’s in company that is entirely aware of his and Tony’s relationship—and by now, he doesn’t think the word “relationship” is exaggerated at all. It’s obvious that the past few days have changed things between them. They’ve never been like this before: sitting so close their shoulders touch, with casual hands laid on knees and arms put around backs every now and then. Steve hadn’t even realized how much he had missed having something like this, and now that he has it, he can’t seem to get enough.

“I think I’m going to call it a night now,” Bruce says, setting his fourth empty tea mug on the table.

“Fair enough, Doc,” Tony says. “It’s past midnight, obviously bedtime for the good citizens who have to work tomorrow. Before you go, though, I want to propose one last toast.”

Bruce grabs a pitcher of water, pours some into his empty mug, and picks it up again. “All right, let’s hear it.”

“To the five finest people on all of Ares,” Tony says, raising his tumbler of whiskey. “Without you, I’d be spending years of my life in a prison cell for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Steve raises his pint as well, and adds, “To the six finest people on the planet,” because surely Tony needs to be included in this toast. “I’d say we’ve done the whole community a service by putting Hammer in his place. Anyone who thinks they can get away with something like what he did needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Couldn’t agree more on that. Go, us! Good job, everyone!” Clint agrees, raising his drink.

“To us,” Natasha agrees. “And hopefully to a continued partnership.”

“Aye! To the six avengers!” Thor announces, kicking his chair back and standing up, his flask held high.

Everyone else stands up as well, and the barkeep leaves his counter to walk over to the table and join their toast. “As the only one outside of this fine team of yours who knows something about what went on, I think I can say on behalf of everyone on Eden Landing that we’ve got zero complaints about anything you’ve done,” Luke tells them in his deep voice.

Steve lifts his glass to his lips, glad that he doesn’t need to say anything else right away. He probably wouldn’t be able to keep his voice from wavering with all the emotion. It’s so strange to think that before the morning, he had never fought side by side with these people. He hasn’t enjoyed such a strong feel of pride and comradeship since the war.

Bruce puts his mug down again, and takes a step back. “Okay, I really need to go. Have to wake up before seven tomorrow, and I have a huge backlog of statements to write.”

Tony steps in to give him a quick handshake. “Thanks once more, Doc. For everything you did for me. For us.”

“Don’t mention it. And don’t forget you’ve got an appointment tomorrow.” Bruce replies, with a small smile.

“I might, but Steve won’t,” Tony says.

“Damn right I won’t,” Steve agrees. “I need to be sure he’s okay.” And because this is something they can do now, with this whole new relationship thing, Steve steps to Tony’s side and pecks a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Clint comments in the background.

“We will, soon enough,” Tony replies cheerfully.

“And this is where I bow out. Good night, everyone,” Bruce says, and heads for the door.

The others take their seats again. Tony has surreptitiously moved even closer to Steve. It might definitely soon be time to take things somewhere more private; now that they’re less tired, who knows what’s going to happen.

“So, that got a little over the top there, didn’t it? Avengers, huh?” Tony comments, grinning at Thor.

“I think it is only apt!” Thor returns. Steve doubts there even is such a thing as ‘over the top’ for the Asgardian. “If there were to be a name for this fine band of warriors, what would be better suited?”

“The Avengers,” Tony says, and nods. “Yeah, goes with the name of my ship, too. I do like the sound of it. Not that we actually are a band of any sort.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Natasha says. “But there could be occasions where Clint and I could use a few extra hands, or maybe someone else might. I hope this won’t be the last we’ll see of one another.”

Steve doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with that idea. What they did today was a risky endeavor that he didn’t like all that much. Then again, these are good people, his kind of people, the sort of people he’d risk life and limb for, and he doesn’t think they’d resort to violence if not for a very good reason. Who knows—if the cause is right, he might well be persuaded to join them. 

Too much has happened in the past few days for Steve to go back to the way he was. To the inhabitants of Eden Landing, he’ll be the same law-abiding police officer as before, but he knows that he can be other things, as well. He won’t regard himself quite the same way anymore; there’s no going back. His life will be slightly different, riskier, less black and white, less simple. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

He’ll just have to wait and see what the future brings.

“If there’s something you could use my help with,” Steve tells Natasha earnestly, “You’ll know where to find me.”

“And he’ll know where to find me,” Tony adds, planting a hand on Steve’s thigh.

Steve places his hand over Tony’s and laces their fingers.

“So, how about it?” Tony raises his eyebrows and nods towards the door.

“Yeah, let’s,” Steve answers, grinning, and gets up.

“About time,” Natasha comments wryly.

Hand in hand, they walk out of the saloon and towards Steve’s quarters, their steps lighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback of any kind is much appreciated, either here or on my [tumblr](http://veldeia.tumblr.com)! :)


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